(My mom is a rheumatologist with her own practice, and I usually help out at the front desk whenever I have school holidays. Since my family is Chinese-American, many of my mother’s patients are elderly senior-home residents who only speak some form of Chinese and come to their appointments alone, without an English-speaking friend or relative. I cannot imagine how the regular front desk staff communicates with these patients without understanding Chinese based on my experiences with them with one female patient in particular. So far, she has dumped a pile of plastic cards onto the counter and understands that I speak Mandarin rather poorly.)
Me: Ma’am, which one of these cards is your primary insurance card?
Elderly Patient: I don’t know, but my daughter probably does. *pulls out an old cellphone and a piece of paper with many telephone numbers scribbled onto it.* Can you please call my daughter for me?
(By this time, the waiting room is getting kind of crowded. Even though it is our business to check with the insurance company what a patient’s primary insurance is, it is the patient’s responsibility to contact their own relatives and transportation. However, since the elderly patient is starting to panic, I dial her daughter’s number into the cellphone and hand it over to her so I can register others while she is calling. She is still speaking loudly by the time everyone is seated and is clearly disturbing the other patients.)
Other Patient: *obviously fed up* Can you please tell her to take her call outside or something?
Me: I’m sorry, ma’am. Yes, of course. *to the elderly patient* Ma’am, may you please take your call outside? Ma’am?
(The elderly patient shushes me and continues her loud conversation, which is not even about her insurance anymore, in the office for another five minutes. Finally, somehow, we sort her insurance situation out.)
Me: Next time you have a call, can you please take it outside? We don’t want to disturb the other patients.
Elderly Patient: Oh, okay. I didn’t know that was a rule in your office.
(I’m not surprised that she doesn’t realize it’s more of a common courtesy thing in America, but I’m tired and I really don’t feel like correcting her. The rest of her appointment goes smoothly on my part until the end, when my mother comes out of the examination room with a very annoyed expression and tells me to make the patient’s next appointment.)
Elderly Patient: *shoves the same cellphone and the same telephone-numbered paper into my hands* Young lady, since the doctor won’t do it, can you call my driver for me now?

(The shop I work at has a very concise, yet specific, contract that every costumer has to sign. It’s only a paragraph or so, but we still get costumers who try to argue policy.)

Me: *answering phone* Thank you for calling [bridal shop], this is [me], how may I assist you?

Bride: Yeah, I ordered a dress there a few days ago, and I’m having second thoughts. Is there any way I can put a hold on the dress or get my deposit back.

Me: Our policy is not to issue any returns or exchanges, but if the dress hasn’t gone into production yet, there may be something I can ask a manager to do. Let me check.

(I check the bride’s profile and see that she ordered the dress almost 3 days ago and has a production number.)

Me: Ok, so I see here that your dress has already gone into production, so unfortunately your order can’t be cancelled.

Bride: But I don’t know if I want the dress anymore!

Me: Let me grab my manager –

Bride: Never mind. I’ll deal with this myself. *hangs up*

(Several hours later, the phone rings again)

Me: Thank you for calling [bridal salon], this is [me]. How may I assist you?

Mother: Yes, my name is [bride’s mother], my daughter called here not too long ago about her dress. She only ordered it on Sunday, but the girl she spoke to said the dress couldn’t be refunded or cancelled because it was already processed. I’m sure that’s wrong – there’s no way it could be started that quickly.

Me: Yes, ma’am. I pulled up your daughter’s account, and her order has already been processed. I have a production number for her gown, which means the dress will be completed.

Mother: How much could have been done to it? I mean she only ordered it 2 days ago!

Me: Our dresses go into production after 24 hours. We’re the manufacturer and production team, which is how we keep our prices down and get the dresses to you a bit quicker.

Mother: So you just have fabric ROTTING and DISCOLORING in a factory somewhere?

Me: I assure you we produce a quality product ma’am.

Mother: My daughter is having second thoughts about her dress, and I want that dress held and my money returned.

Me: That’s not possible, ma’am. The contract you signed stated that we do not issue returns or exchanges for any reason. The dress is already in production; it will arrive in the store. What we can do is credit you the deposit you put down towards another dress. But we cannot return your money.

Mother: THIS IS AWFUL CUSTOMER SERVICE! GIVE ME MY MONEY BACK!

Me: *fed up* The store’s email is [email]. Please send in writing your request to cancel the dress. Have a nice day *hangs up*

(I go to the checkout and my total comes to exactly $6, so I hand over a $10 bill. The young man behind the counter starts pulling out $1’s, but quickly notices he only has three. He is also low on change, so he starts pulling out heaps to give me! At this point, I stop him.) 

Me: “Sorry, but I really don’t want all of that change. Could I just give you a $1 and get a $5 back?”

Cashier: *blank look of confusion*

Me: *pulling out a $1* “Here. My change was $4, so if I give you $1, my change should be $5. That way I can just get a $5.”

Cashier: *after a long pause, looking at all the money* “I’m going to have to cancel the transaction and start over.”

Me: “Oh, um… all right. I guess that’s fine.”

(He takes another few minutes to re-ring. Then, he takes the $1 from me, looks around, and realizes the $10 is in the drawer and the other change he had started counting — but hadn’t finished — was outside.) 

Cashier: “This isn’t enough money.”

Me: “That’s because that’s the change you were giving me. I gave you a $10 and a $1. My total was $6, so my change should be $5.”

Cashier: *looking more confused than ever* “I think I should call a manager.”

Me: “That’s probably for the best.”

(It takes a few minutes for the manager to come over. At this point, I’ve been there for ten minutes, and there is a line starting to form. One lady behind me only got there recently, and hasn’t seen the previous interactions. She is starting to get really agitated. )

Manager: “So, what’s going on?”

Me: “My total was $6. I gave him a $10 bill. He didn’t have enough change for me, so I gave him a $1 bill to get a $5 back. The $10 is in the drawer, my $1 is right there, and the original change he was trying to count out is that pile there. With all the money swapping around I think there was some confusion. If it makes it easier, I can take my money back and just pay with a card.”

Cashier: “No, we can’t redo a transaction once we start it.” *to manager* “Can you please count my drawer so we can start over?”

(While the manager starts to count the drawer, and I’m wondering why he could cancel the transaction before but not now, the old lady behind me implodes.) 

Lady: “Oh, my God! I’ll just pay for her if it’s that big of a deal. Jesus, girl. You should have paid by card to begin with instead of wasting our time with your scam!”

(She rants for a while, and I just ignore her. Eventually, the manager is done counting.)

Manager: “She did exactly what she said she did. Just give her her $5, and in the future don’t cater to people who want special attention.”

(I was finally given my change after 20 minutes and upsetting everyone in the store. Was I the wrong one?)

(I’m going to high school in the late 90s. We have a couple of teachers who have enough tenure that they know they can’t get fired, and are slightly crazy. This makes for some very interesting classes; my chemistry teacher is one of these. A brief bit of background, which will be relevant later: my father is a chemical engineer and taught me quite a bit about chemical reactions. This particular class start out different from normal, with the teacher having all of us get up and stand out in the hallway. He has us gather around the door, looking into the room. On the counter, he has a large beaker of water.)

Teacher: “We’re going to do the sodium reaction today.”

Me: *thinking* “Cool, this is a pretty fun experiment.”

(I then watch as he goes to the supply closet, brings out the sealed container, puts on gloves, and proceeds to remove a block of sodium about an inch thick and the size of his palm. I’m waiting for him to remove a small piece of it to begin the experiment, but instead, he grips the whole thing between two fingers, stretches his arm out as far from his body as he can, and drops the whole thing in. The instant he lets go, he starts sprinting towards the supply room.)

Me: “Oh, sh–” 

(I barely have time to say the words, as I, too, dive to get out of the doorway.)

Sodium: “KABOOOM!”

(The sodium reacted predictably, with a massive explosion. Water and glass went everywhere, ceiling tiles got singed, and everyone who didn’t know what to expect started freaking out. I am still amazed that the fire alarm didn’t go off, or that no one called the police.)

(For one reason or another, my friend celebrates her birthday on Halloween, even though she was born mid-November. I don’t mind people celebrating their birthdays earlier or later than the actual day, I’ve done it myself, too… but… well… This takes place the morning of Halloween. I tell my friend I am not able to attend her party this year weeks in advance, and I remind her again.)

Me: “Hey, [Friend]! I’m sorry I won’t be there tonight, but I got you a little birthday present to make up for it!”

Friend: “Y-You’re… what?! You’re coming tonight!”

Me: “Unfortunately, I can’t… My parents want me to chaperone my little brother and his friends while they trick-or-treat tonight. I thought I told you this a little while ago?”

Friend: “I thought you were going to cancel that?! Tonight is supposed to be special!”

Me: “Well… what were you planning on doing?”

Friend: “I was going to have my mom make me some dinner, and then we’d stay in and watch [Series she is obsessed with, though I don’t much care for] all night!”

Me: “I’m sorry. But my little brother is dying to go trick-or-treating tonight, and my parents aren’t able to go with him.”

Friend: “What’s so special about tonight that it’s more important than my birthday?!”

Me: “Um… Halloween? You know… spooks and treats and costumes? You weren’t even born on Halloween, though.”

Friend: “So?! It’s my day! It’s more important! Either you come tonight or I’m done talking with you!”

Me: “Well, my brother kind of comes first… especially his safety.”

Friend: “I hope you get hit by a car or mugged or something. That’ll teach you to place something so stupid over my f****** birthday.”

Me: “YOU WERE BORN NOVEMBER 18TH!”

Friend: “F*** off, you b****!”

(I just walk away and continue with the rest of the school day. Later that night, while my little brother and his friends are finishing up their costumes, I get a text from my friend.)

Friend: “Hey! I’m sorry about earlier. I’m so glad you changed your mind! I can’t wait to see you tonight!”

(I was genuinely confused, as I hadn’t spoken to her since that morning, never mind cancel on my brother. I ignored her and went out trick-or-treating with my little brother. I admit I was a little bummed out, and my brother noticed… and as sweet as he was, he revealed he brought an extra bag for me so I could get candy, too. I got a decent amount that night and all of us got back safe and sound, having a great night! I didn’t exactly hear the end of it, though, as the next day my friend laid into me about ignoring her, and about how her party and TV marathon was more important than the safety of some brats. I don’t speak with her anymore.)